Marble Heart by C. J. Vincent

Author:C. J. Vincent
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: FireHive Media

Chapter 9 ~ Ares

With my hand tight on my brother’s tunic, I willed us both to Argos and the Heraion where I knew they had taken my son.

The first thing I saw as the Argolid plain opened out before me was Niko. His face was contorted with fear and my son was clutched tightly against his chest. But before I could run to them, Hermes gripped my wrist and pulled my attention back to him. “Brother,” he hissed.

“What?” I almost shouted in his face. How dare he keep me from my son, and my spark?

Instead of replying, Hermes stared straight ahead, and I followed his gaze to see three women lying prostrate in front of an altar strewn with flowers and offerings. Standing above them, with a gaze as cold and imperious as the last time I had seen her, was Hera. Queen of Heaven.

“Mother,” I growled. She was beautiful, impossibly so, but the set of her jaw was cruel; just the way I remembered her. She had not changed as the eons had passed, and it would be safe to assume that she had learned nothing from her time in exile.

My mother’s jade green eyes turned away from her supplicants to me, and a smile flickered across her red lips. “My son,” she purred.

“What are you doing here?” I shouted, and Niko’s frightened eyes turned to me. I didn’t need to look at him to know that he would be confused.

“Papá,” I heard my son whimper. All I wanted was to gather him up in my arms and take him away from this place. But first, I had to make sure that Hera would not threaten us again. My mother’s eyes flickered to Niko and my son, and then back to me. Her smile did not move, but her gaze hardened slightly.

“I was summoned,” she replied loftily. “Argos has been my sacred hearth since before you were born.” I couldn’t keep the sneer from my lips as she gestured at the women in front of her.

“Summoned? When have you ever appeared when a mortal called?”

“I choose worthy supplicants,” she replied.

“You choose ones who can be of use to you,” I snapped. “How did you find us? How di—” my words died in my throat as I saw Thero’s crumpled body. Her pale eyes were open and sightless and her blood stained the hard dirt beneath her. “No.” I rushed to Thero and knelt in the dirt beside her. She had raised me on Samothrace because the goddess that stood haughtily above me could not be bothered.

“You should not mourn for her,” one of the women said. She rose from her position of supplication as she spoke and my eyes narrowed as I saw she carried my mother’s staff. I wanted to crush the life out of her for speaking such hard words. “Thero came to us, theoi. She betrayed you and delivered the child into our hands.”

I looked down at Thero’s face. She would never have done that. Never.

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